Jingle Yer Bells
by Ayame99
Summary: Christmas is becoming more popular in Japan and Bad Luck is right in on the scene, especially for Hiroshi Nakano and his manager K who have a concert to attend. When an interesting pair of neighbors, Undertaker and Grell, temporarily take up residence next door a few wild events begin to unfold. It brings us into the lives of pastry chefs Ichigo and Byakuya from Sugar and Spice.


**A/N: I wrote this crack-filled Gravitation-centric Christmas story as a present to my number 1 fan. She is a huge inspiration to me and a dear friend who is more than just my ear-rental. Thanks hun for being such a kindred spirit and a fangirl I can share all my stupid thoughts with lol! I always wanted to give you a story full of muses and things you and I adore. And now I have (well, not everything but a healthy dose of it lol!). I hope you enjoy this silly story filled with lemon and fluff and crazy stuff. Merry Christmas!**

**Title:** Jingle Yer Bells (I blame Undertaker for this title XD)

**Pairings:** K x Hiro (Gravitation) with cameos by Byakuya x Ichigo (Bleach – portrayed as seen from my Sugar and Spice fic), Undertaker x Grell (Kuroshitsuji) small cameos featuring Iason and Riki (Ai no Kusabi) and Val and Havi (Crimson Spell)

**Genre:** AU, humourous crack, smut and many dashes of fluff

**Warnings:** Graphic lemons and mild swearing.

**Rating:** M!

**Full Summary:** Christmas is becoming more popular in Japan and Bad Luck is right in on the scene, especially for Hiroshi Nakano and his manager K who have a concert to attend. Yet, when an interesting pair of neighbors, Undertaker and Grell, temporarily take up residence next door a few wild events begin to unfold. It brings us into the lives of pastry chefs Ichigo and Byakuya, who also wish to attend the concert where L'Arc En Ciel will also play at. The spirit of Christmas brings everyone together.

* * *

><p><strong>Jingle Yer Bells<strong>

**When** Hiroshi Nakano finished his shower and wandered into the adjoining bedroom wrapped only in a fluffy green towel, he found his husband, Claude, crouched next to the wall at the head of their bed. It appeared as if he was hugging the wall and headboard but he had an electronic contraption affixed to his head that looked like a pair of giant earphones. He was holding another weird device to the wall with one hand, some military-grade toy that Hiroshi could not name. Let's just say, the man has troves of this kind of stuff that he could not name.

Hiro crossed his arms over his chest. Driblets of water fell from the tips of his freshly washed hair and rolled down his naked chest as he gave an incorrigible sigh. His true love could be such a pervert.

"K-san, are you spying on our neighbours?"

The tall man of American descent with long blond hair the colour of warm honey, which was tied up into a ponytail, held a finger up to his lips. He whispered excitedly, "They aren't really neighbours, babe. They're just visitors—got here two days ago. I thought I heard a chainsaw revving last night, Hiro—_a chainsaw!_ So I got suspicious. I can't help but wonder if they're international spies or terrorists, you know, getting rid of _living_ evidence… there's something about them that's tingling my spidey senses."

Indeed the next-door apartment in the condominium in which they lived rented its space out to vacationers. They knew this because the man that owned the apartment next door once asked them to call him if they suspected anyone abusing the rental property.

"_Everything_ tingles your senses because you're seriously paranoid, K-san. You have been ever since I met you." Hiroshi told him with a roll of his eyes. His also knew his man could act like an overgrown child sometimes but he wouldn't voice those thoughts. At times like this, it was clear why he was able to manage someone like Ryuichi Sakuma from the band Nittle Grasper so well though, since that singer was also an overgrown child. "I still think it's kind of rude to be eavesdropping on them anyways. It's not like you're a saint or anything, especially when you stand on the balcony and fire your gun for no good reason. I'm surprised none of the guests staying next door complains about _us_."

"It's not for 'no good reason' I'm aiming at the airplanes, you _know_ that." He replied as if that made a whole bunch of sense.

Hiroshi's face fell flat. "Right..." he murmured sarcastically, "Since those planes could be spies or aliens or even worse—ninjas, looking to steal NG Record's company secrets—you already explained all this before. Don't you think this story is starting to sound a little… oh, I dunno… _insane_?"

"You're taking all the fun out of it, little man." K said flippantly. "But you're wrong. It's Bad Luck's secrets I worry about. Screw NG," he pointed out with loyal tenacity. "I work for you guys, not that pansy boy, Tohma Seguchi."

Hiroshi had to grin at that. It was true, Claude K. Winchester (whom they all called 'K' most of the time), was their maniac band manager here in Tokyo, Japan. This man would stop at nothing to make them famous, a common icon of society. Once he even said, _'Bad Luck isn't just a band it's a household staple!'_

That is if K had anything to do about it.

"Keep telling yourself that," Hiroshi told him. "No matter what you say, you still work for that pansy boy."

"He-he, you called him 'pansy boy'." K actually lifted the listen device from the wall to give his man an affectionate grin. "I love it when you drop the do-gooder act."

Hiroshi scoffed. "_What…?_ I'm no 'do-gooder'. I have my moments. Besides, someone has to keep you in line, buddy. If I don't do it no one will and then what would happen to this city?"

K wore a rueful look. "Now you're just exaggerating, Hiro…"

"Am I? _Really…_" Hiroshi ran his fingers through his wet auburn tresses. "Have you forgotten what happens when you pull out that satellite laptop of yours… remember the distant explosion that went _way_ off track? You're lucky no one got hurt. It was also the day I broke the promise to my mother that I would never touch a firearm. And look what happened."

"Now I can't keep you away from my gun. _That's_ what happened." K replied with a wink, his blue eyes glowing with disobedience.

Hiroshi sighed.

K returned to his reconnaissance and his eyes widened. "Ha! I think our visitors are men. It's hard to say with one of them because someone keeps referring to the other as a 'lady'. But I'm telling you it's no lady, it sounds like a man—a real fruity type."

"You're a real fruit sometimes," Hiro muttered, still feeling a little indignant about the 'gun' comment.

"What was that?" K asked.

"Oh nothing…" Hiroshi waved his hand at him.

"Come here and listen." K held out the flat piece of equipment that was used on the wall.

Forgetting about rudeness and respecting other people's space, Hiroshi scrambled onto the bed to eavesdrop as well. K gave up his device to let Hiro have a turn, clamping the earphones onto his head gingerly.

_"Oh! I can't wait for tonight, Undie, the city is going to be magical. Mmm, but first, let's make our own kind of celebration fireworks."_

There was a devious laugh.

_"Anything my lady wishes."_

Hiroshi blushed from head to toe, "They're totally about to get it on. Man, I wonder what they look like. They sound British."

Once his attention was drawn away from the people on the other side of the concrete and drywall, K noticed how Hiroshi was virtually naked and still damp from his shower. His reddish-brown hair was tousled and wet. It stuck to the nape of his neck and shoulders as little beads of water raced down his spine. K swallowed thickly, his little guitarist lover smelled deliciously of whatever soapy stuff he had used. It made him think of strawberries and bananas.

"Probably not as hot as you," he murmured. K's eyes traveled over bare limbs, delightful curves and scrumptious dips he'd like to taste with his tongue. He licked his lips and reached out to tug on Hiroshi's fluffy towel.

The redhead flashed a look at his manager swiftly. "And just what do you think you're doing?" he questioned roguishly.

K gave a playful smile and removed the towel completely. "You're just so wet and sexy right now and all the hotness next door is turning me on. We don't need to be at that Christmas concert for a few hours so maybe we could fool around." The blond leaned in to sample the back of his lover's neck with his mouth. "Mmm, I want a piece of Hiro pie…"

At that very moment, a booming laugh came from the other side of the wall. They didn't even need the listening device to hear it. The wall shook a little, too.

Suspicious, Hiro wondered. "Was that a coincidence or do you think they can hear us, too?"

"Meh, who cares? Let them listen," said K with a shrug. "I've been listening to them go at it a few times since they got here. It always seems to be when we're actually home. I don't know how you slept through it for the last two nights, plus the chainsaw noise. It's our turn now—a little revenge is sweet. We should be extra loud, for shits and giggles."

The guitarist wasn't sure he wanted to be 'extra loud' but the suggestion did make him giggle all right. "I guess it's kind of hot. Of course not in the same room with them or anything..." Hiroshi was much too bashful for something like that. "Can't we just ignore them and have our own fun?"

A fanatic kind of look appeared on K's face.

Hiroshi narrowed his eyes suddenly. "I know what you're thinking, Claude, you have that expression. I didn't mean a competition with them or anything. I bet you wanna see who can be the loudest or last the longest or something ridiculous like that," he finished in a heated whisper just in case the neighbours _were_ listening.

K cast his eyes down like a scolded child. "Err… no, I was just thinking maybe our sounds of lovemaking might turn them on. Don't be crazy… I already know I last longer than they do."

Hiroshi was still studying him carefully.

Of course, K wasn't going to point out that a little competition was good for the soul and that his lover read him like a book. Hrmph, Hiroshi was always trying to ruin his fun.

"I'm sure you do." Hiro said invitingly as he removed the earphones and placed the device on the bedside table next to their king-sized bed.

K's eyes went straight to Hiro's bare butt as it came into full view while he reached in the direction of the nightstand. "Such a fuckable ass," he murmured as he reached over to squeeze one firm cheek greedily. Then he lowered his hand to fondle his lover's dangling cock that was playing peek-a-boo with him.

The guitarist felt K's warm hand massaging his genitals and he moaned softly. It didn't startle him or surprise him; he loved how K handled his body. He took possession of him like a well-oiled pistol, because guns, as the blond often reminded, required a certain amount of tender loving care.

K descended on Hiroshi with his mouth, lips finding purchase on the plump roundness of his backside. He kissed and licked adding a few nibbles with his teeth all while bringing Hiroshi to solid arousal with his undulating hand.

"Yes… get hard for me," K purred as his mouth made a wet path towards his shoulder, removing his hand from between Hiro's legs.

Hiroshi lay flat on the bed on his stomach, now he could feel K's hard length brushing against the back of his thigh through the fine material of his tan slacks. He moaned softly when the blonds' warm mouth tended to his ear, whispering hot sweet nothings in a mix of Japanese and English as he crawled his way up along his body.

"My sexy, Hiroshi…"

"My handsome, crazy K…"

"Hey…" the blond said with a small affronted chuckle, "Be nice."

Hiroshi knew he wasn't truly offended. It was all part of their game. "Don't worry. I wouldn't trade you in for all Highway One Stratocaster Fender guitars, in Daphne Blue, in the whole wide world."

"Phew," K sounded, playing along. "It's cute that you still talk of that guitar."

"You gave that to me years ago."

"W-T-fuck? How did that happen?" The blond mused and licked the shell of Hiroshi's ear with his tongue. "Time really flies but I still love you as if it were yesterday."

Hiroshi looked back at his long-time lover who was sprawled over top of him. "I love you, too, big guy."

They brought their lips together in a sweet, loving kiss, sighing with mutual adoration. It didn't take long for the kisses to grow in heat and urgency. Soon Hiro was arching up against K with desire to feel him inside of him. There was no one else that could make Hiroshi's world feel so perfect.

The guitarist reached for K's silk purple tie and yanked on it just enough to get his attention, "Do it to me, lover."

* * *

><p><strong>"Oh!<strong> I cannot wait for tonight, Undie, the city is going to be magical. Mmm, but first, let's make our own kind of celebration fireworks."

The man in the bedroom laughed. "Anything my lady wishes."

Grell Sutcliff continued primping his long vermillion red hair in the bathroom mirror when he heard his lover giggling again in the other room. It was noticeable over the music that was playing from his red-cased iPhone with little pink hearts on it. He stopped humming the song _Laid_ by James and arched an elegant red brow with detection.

This particular giggle was of the naughty variety and naughty things always interested Grell.

"Oh, darling, do share what's so funny? I hope you aren't watching those silly TV shows while you wait for your lady to put on her special outfit, are you?" he asked with suspicion. "I _know_ a lewd chortling when I hear one."

Darling's name was Undertaker or Undie in public since not many modern folks even used the term 'undertaker' anymore. People of these times tend to call such professions by the term of 'funeral director' or rarely but sometimes 'mortician'. However, nowadays his beloved madman worked as a coroner who often gave lectures on the history of medicine at a few universities in the United Kingdom. Sought was his expertise in this era by many legal agencies. It seems as if all his years of playing with dead bodies wasn't a total waste of time. The only drawback was that Undertaker would eventually have to change locations and leave this work for something else before people got suspicious of how he doesn't age.

Undoubtedly, Grell knows his lover's real name after 121 years of commitment but he won't share it with you.

"The telly isn't even on, my dear." Undertaker answered. "I don't know why you think they're so silly. Really, those ghost-hunting programs are such a riot, he-he. Complete inaccurate load of bollocks, if you ask me. There is no way you can detect paranormal activity using the Kinects contraption thingy with your Xbox. When will the humans learn?"

"Um, right…" Grell replied impassively. "I don't care about that. I want to know what you were laughing so deviously about."

It came again that devious lewd chuckle. "Oh, I was just getting the sneakin' suspicion that certain nosey folks are peeping on us."

Grell popped his head out from the bathroom but he did not reveal the rest of his body. "Shut the front door!" He hissed excitedly and eyed his silver-haired treat who was swathed in a tangle of white sheets in the middle of their four-poster bed. The Undertaker was completely bare, just the way he liked him. Grell smirked as his eyes travelled over his lover's pallid limbs and an exposed torso, yet, a small section of sheet strategically covered his happy place.

The redhead made a distinct purring sound at the sight before him and the idea that they could be potential victims of voyeurism. "Mmm, how sexy is that? We should put on a good show for them, then."

"Well, you _are_ rather noisy in the sack, love. Although, when you're screamin' for more what the blazes can a poor bloke do?" Undertaker chuckled as he lounged in bed with one hand behind his head and the other playing with his smart phone. "If I stopped you'd be madder than a kettle screaming over a hot fire."

Grell feigned a blush and waved a hand feebly at Undertaker's wisecrack. He knew he couldn't argue with him about his level of racket during intercourse, he was a passionate man after all. "Noisy? Let me get this straight—you're talking about the people living next door?"

Undertaker looked up from the game of _Plague_ he was playing on his phone. "Yes, who did you think I meant?"

Grell returned to his reflection in the mirror just as the song he was humming to earlier, finished. He switched off the player, more interested in discussing the possibility that some depraved individuals were spying on them. "I thought you were talking about someone across the way in the building next door with a set of binoculars," he said from the bathroom again. "Like peeping toms…"

"Almost the same thing I suppose," Undertaker offered. "'Cept these toms are right on the other side of our wall."

"I wonder what they look like." Grell was quite curious.

"Not as beautiful as you, my scrumptious little tart."

Undertaker always phrased it best.

The redhead gave a pleased shrill. "Have you seen them since we arrived here for our Christmas holiday?" Grell checked his razor-sharp teeth for bits of seaweed salad that he had eaten earlier.

"No, I haven't met them yet, however, the two human souls on the other side of this wall are definitely male. They're lovers, too." In fact, Undertaker could sense their sexual tension permeating through the walls. "He-he, these chaps say the funniest things." He knew this because his senses were above average since he wasn't at all human but a Grim Reaper, a Shinigami, if you will.

_"Mmm, I want a piece of Hiro pie…"_

Undertaker couldn't help it he burst out laughing at that. "Oh dear me…" He said gasping in between hysterics. "We definitely have to meet them."

Undertaker shared what he just heard and Grell hugged himself and wriggled a little bit at that piece of information. "Oh, how silly and adorable," he regarded. "I do love warm cherry pie though. Undie, promise me we'll stop by a bakery on the way downtown for some."

Bakeries and Undertaker got along just fine. "It'd be my pleasure, my sweet."

"Hmm, maybe we should invite the neighbours over for tea one day, but we better do it soon—we leave after New Years." Grell suggested.

"How about for tea _and_ pizza," Undertaker offered happily, enjoying modern cuisine, "Or better yet, Kit-Kat."

"Tea and pizza sounds utterly disgusting," Grell informed with repugnance. "And if you eat another Kit-Kat I'll never let you ravage this beautiful body again," he whined from the adjoining bathroom. "I'm loath to finding those foil wrappers you leave lying all over the place—I even found one under your pillow last night. Ugh! You and that sweet tooth must be put on a leash!"

There was a slight pause before a throaty chuckle grew louder and louder from the other room. "That's impossible on both accounts." Undertaker said when he finished laughing. "Besides, you never follow through with those threats—you're addicted to this old cock."

Grell sighed dramatically. "Sadly, I'm addicted to more than just your pretty cock or I wouldn't have remained your lady for over a century, lover." With a devilish grin, Grell revealed one sexy leg done up in a red, fishnet stocking attached to a garter belt at his waist. He slid the heel of red satin pump along the edge of the doorframe seductively, giving his man his own little peep show.

On cue, a wolf whistle came from the sheet-swathed Undertaker.

"And I'm going to ride that cock like a bad-tempered pony," Grell promised with a maniac chuckle of his own.

"Giddy-up," encouraged the older reaper. "My dear, you're driving me to the loony bin… I'm dying here."

Grell had to giggle. "I get a real chuckle every time you say something like that."

Undertaker scoffed softly. "Go on with ya."

At last, Grell stepped out of the washroom and revealed his secret weapon to his silver-haired companion who shook the hair away from his eyes to get a better look. His gold-green eyes widened by a tenfold.

His fiery rose stood there posing in a lacy red corset with matching panties and a garter attached to a pair of fishnet stockings. He wore a pair of lethal high heels that matched the colour of his hair. In his hand, he waggled back and forth a pink sex toy with deviant intent.

"How are those new contacts working for you, hot stuff?" Grell wondered huskily. "I hope you're not missing anything. I got this outfit especially for you in Paris last month. I also got this toy they are anal beads, which I plan on using on you tonight… _darling_."

It was rare but it did happen—the Undertaker was speechless for a moment.

He sat up while combing through his bangs with his long fingers with nails he kept shorter these days. But he still liked to keep them black. He continued to keep his hair extremely long, the bangs too, but he didn't purposely hide his eyes from public view anymore and he often swept them aside. He welcomed the wonderful world of modern technology. Moreover, what it offered to people with vision like his or Grell's because reapers are nearsighted. However, Grell didn't wear mortal-world contacts because he was still a fulltime shinigami and preferred his beloved red-framed glasses.

"The contacts are fine—wait," he said as he tapped a finger to his chin. "I might be as old as dirt but I thought you said you were going to use that thing on me."

"You are as old as dirt, honey, but you're still as hot as the day I met you, maybe even hotter now. I can't say I'm sad to see you in fashionable attire and not those horrid rags from that dirty Victorian era… goodness me, I'm so happy those times are long behind us. But anytime you want to put on those boots with all the buckles… you _know_ where to find me."

A huge predatory grin spread across his Undie's face and the tall reaper threw off the sheets and climbed out of bed. Grell began to squeal. "I love it when you come to claim me. Oh, take me handsome. Tame this naughty girl!"

"To tame such a wild creature would mean the death of her," Undertaker claimed romantically and approached his long-time partner. He reached around Grell's middle and grabbed two handfuls of the man's bare arse that the costume didn't cover. "A shame, I don't even have a proper coffin to put you in."

Undertaker smacked each cheek soundly with his hands like banging a pair of bongos.

"I told you if I ever die I wanna be cremated not buried. It's so repulsive becoming nothing but worm food." The redheaded reaper proclaimed with disgust.

"Aww, but that's no fun," Undertaker replied, smoothing his hands up along Grell's back.

"Stop talking about morbid things you creepy old codger. We are on holidays together, _alone_, with no other people, not even dear William, no one to rain on our little parade of love. We needed this time together in a land far, far away. Away from London and its dreary weather."

He picked up his lacy red princess bridal style, escorted him to the bed where he dropped him like a sack of potatoes and crawled over top like a hungry beast.

"To think you spent all this time primping only to have me tear it all off of ya," Undertaker teased as he sat back up, straddling his beautiful reaper. He ran his hands over the delicate material that cinched in Grell's waist and gave him a lovely peek at bits of flesh underneath. "My, what a sight you are. A fetching little minx..."

Pleased as punch by Undertaker's annotations, Grell drew his red-painted fingernails salaciously over the definitions of his man's smooth naked chest, "Make love to me, Under-darling."

* * *

><p><strong>It<strong> seemed as if the neighbours were being louder than usual as K thrust into his lover. Yet, it added to the sizzling activities going on in their own bedroom, heightened the sensuality of it all. Or maybe it was downright licentious but who gives a fuck, right?

K certainly didn't.

He held onto Hiroshi's hips with his hands while the redhead held himself up on his fours. The heat K felt squeezing his dick was always a beautiful thing. It was always perfect with Hiroshi and the soft mewls of pleasure he sang during their lovemaking made his heart soar.

It made his blood rush.

The headboard banging right next to them, the crescendo of erotic sounds rising as their naughty neighbours on the other side of the wall screwed like bunny rabbits had them both feeling frantic.

Hiroshi was grasping onto the blankets beneath him, grunting with every hard, long thrust. Skin was slapping off skin—K was taking him fast and deep. Every stroke hit Hiroshi's prostrate, which sent blinding sparks coursing through his body and built up the tension of his pending climax. It was coming. He could feel the pressure building…

"Oh fuck, K… I'm gonna…"

K teased in a breathless singsong, "_Come_ all ye faithful."

Hiroshi wasn't sure if that was another one of Claude's stupid Christmas carols or what but he didn't ask, instead he shuddered and came. Ahhh, yes… waves of bliss washed over him again and again. Without thinking, Hiroshi slammed a hand against the wall during his orgasm.

"Oh shit," he muttered and looked back at K. "The neighbours…"

His beautiful blue-eyed lover wasn't concerned about the neighbours as reached his release. He slipped himself out of Hiroshi and stroked his twitching cock, pumping laces of hot fluid all over his backside.

It took a few moments before K could see straight again, before he could produce a coherent string of words. But when he could think again, he used the discarded green towel to wipe off Hiroshi's back. He tossed the soiled towel aside and crawled over his sweet husband for post-coital snuggles.

Both of them caught their breaths and listened silently to the passionate cries next door.

K and Hiro chuckled like children.

"Sounds like they're having a good time," K murmured against Hiro's neck with his arms wrapped around him.

Hiroshi placed his head on his arms enjoying the warm embrace they shared. "I had a good time."

"You mean you had a good time with my love gun…"

Hiroshi scoffed. "Shut up about that."

K laughed and nuzzled Hiro's ear.

* * *

><p><strong>Having<strong> already reached his climax while riding Undertaker's shapely cock, Grell made sure to take care of his lover with his sexy new toy. Normally he enjoyed letting Undie take the lead but occasionally he wanted to make his darling alpha whine like a strumpet. The sex they shared was unbound, it was passionate, it was always an adventure and they couldn't get enough.

Watching the old reaper cling to the sheets with a death grip, seeing the red streak of arousal burn across his scarred face drove Grell wild. "Oh honey, I knew you'd like this," he said his voice thick as maple syrup.

Undertaker had his eyes squeezed shut as Grell pleasured him with the beads. Silver hair fanned about his head on the pillows as he lay on his back with his legs spread and a naughty Grell between them.

"It's s-splendid, l-love," he stammered and sighed through parted lips.

Grell chuckled at how he had one of the strongest, oldest reapers he knew mere putty in his hands right now. It was a marvel to see. "Come for me bad boy," he urged playfully and pricked his teeth gently along Undertaker's thigh.

The jolts of pain and pleasure had the Undertaker growling to climax.

Triumphant, Grell leaned in and wrapped his lips around his lover's throbbing length, relieving him of every hot drop he pumped into his mouth. He slipped the pink toy out of his lover.

Undertaker's first response was a delighted chuckle mixed with long sighs of euphoric bliss when the stars stopped bursting behind his eyes. "Been a while since I had that," he quipped.

Grell sidled up next to his lover and let the man wrap his arms around him. "It's been too long, darling. We have been working so much lately. We needed his holiday to rekindle our passions."

"You and I don't need much of that rekindling stuff," Undertaker assured confidently. "But I do get your point. Heck, even when you're working you still send me naughty phone messages."

"Sexting doesn't count." Grell pointed out dryly.

"Sure it does, love. I get the feels when you send me those kinds of messages so it's gotta count for something." He smoothed hand over Grell's hair, down along his arm, dragging his black nails over a patch of soft skin at his hip.

Grell shivered with delight from the sensation and knew he couldn't win that argument, but it wasn't that important anyways. "I suppose you're right, darling." Then he groaned, "I'm utterly starving now. Let's get ready to make our debut on the town, shall we. I have an outfit I've been dying to wear for an occasion such as this." He climbed out of the bed and took his lover's hand. "Why don't you come join me in the shower, my sly silver fox?"

"Then we may never leave this apartment." Undertaker twittered knowingly.

Grell scoffed. "Oh yes we will because I must have that cherry pie. You did promise."

"Yes, I did. But I thought you were more excited about the Cavalcade of Lights Festival than the now for-sought cherry pie." The old reaper reminded him.

"We'll have plenty of time for both, won't we?" Grell furrowed his manicured brows. "Since _when_ does my dear Undie refuse pastries? Why that's… that's almost sacrilegious."

Undertaker chuffed softly. "I'm only messing with you. Come on, let's clean up." Still holding Grell's hand he shuffled out of the bed.

The crimson-haired reaper beamed with delight. "Remember to tie up your hair. We definitely don't have time to blow dry tonight."

"Did we even bring the blow dryer?" Undertaker questioned as they headed to the bathroom. "I really hate using that thing. Makes me feel like a prune—feels like it's leeching all the moisture out of my head."

"This isn't the dark ages!" Grell blasted. "And _yes_… I packed it because I knew you'd forget to. Anyways, I thought you enjoyed the whole 'leeching' process."

"Only with the salt, love—not blow dryers." Undertaker said gravely.

"I could have that arranged, you know." Grell closed his eyes and sighed.

* * *

><p><strong>"I<strong> found them, angel," K said to his husband. "The keys to the motorcycle were underneath the couch cushion."

"Great," Hiroshi replied as he walked out the bedroom and grabbed his helmet from the dining room table. "Didn't forget your helmet, did you?"

"Nope," assured the tall blond and eyed over his cute man dressed in his black leather pants and biker boots, an indigo blue shirt underneath a thick, winterized version of a bomber jacket. "Aren't you looking ready to rock a stage," K complimented. "You're gonna drive the fans wild tonight—" He smirked devilishly. "—bet you'll even get a few pairs of underwear."

"As long as they're not men's underwear—I'll take it," Hiro joked and waved it all off humbly. "Anyways, they throw them on stage for Shuichi. I'm just the guitarist, not the lead singer."

"Don't underestimate your significance, Hiro. I'm telling you I hear fans screaming your name. In fact, some of the things they say about you scandalize even me."

"Wow, that's impressive. I didn't think much could scandalize you."

K remained sheepishly silent as he zipped up his long, quilted black parka with wool lining. Under that, he had on a pair of dark jeans with a casual shirt and tie. Tonight he dressed warmly since they were taking the motorcycle downtown and then meeting up with everyone in a limo later for a Christmas after-party.

Hiroshi smirked to himself at his husband's guilty silence and opened the apartment door that lead out into the hallway. "Sakano's already texting me about where we are…"

They left the apartment. "That guy is seriously not going to make it to the age of forty-five if he doesn't chill out," K predicted.

The same moment that they left their apartment, the neighbours renting the unit next door was leaving theirs as well.

"Well, well, good evening, chaps."

Hiroshi and K glanced over at a tall, lean man with exceptionally long, silver hair wearing a cute black-knitted toque with a grey pom-pom on top. He wore a three-quarter length black, double-breasted pea coat, dark trousers and black leather shoes. Around his neck hung a simple red scarf that he must have worn to complement the man next to him that was clearly dressed in women's clothing.

"Oh! It's our randy tom neighbours." The redhead many shades brighter than Hiro's proclaimed cheerfully.

The gun and the guitar glanced at each other briefly before checking out the other man, whose crimson hair was easily as long as his companion's was, dressed in a very long red coat donning white fur trim along the collar and down the front lapels. The unbuttoned coat revealed he wore a soft, white turtle-necked sweater, a black mini-skirt with red tights and mid-knee length black leather boots with a thick high-heel. He had a pair of fuzzy black earmuffs on his head.

_"…Hi…"_ Both K and Hiroshi said awkwardly, their eyes crested with guilty smiles. They both held up a hand in a feeble hello.

Undertaker chuckled with great amusement at their discomfort. "Fancy we're all heading out at the same time. One would think a higher power is at work tonight, wouldn't you say."

"Who knew that our neighbours would be _so_ handsome? My name is Grell and this is my darling hubby, Undie. We're on holiday but this isn't our first time in Tokyo. Oh no, we've been here many times." He twittered with an incredulous laugh. "Our Japanese is improving, so we're capable. Goodness knows we've had plenty of time to practice."

"My, yes, we've been here a couple of times over the years." The silver-haired man grinned as if he knew something they did not.

"_The years_… oh, you're such a silly man, darling." Grell and Undertaker shared a short giggle together.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Hiroshi finally said, kicking himself for being so impolite and just gawking at them. "Where are my manners? Please feel free to speak in English we are both fluent." The guitarist used his motorcycle helmet to point in K's direction. "This is my husband, K-san, and I'm Hiroshi."

"Lovely," Grell alleged, clapping his black-gloved hands together. "Let's chat as we ride the elevator down, shall we?"

An elevator arrived in moments and when the doors slid open, all of them filed cautiously and silently at first. There inside the lift was a man taller than Undertaker and K with long, platinum blond hair, wearing fitted black clothing and a flowing white coat. In one hand, he held a leash—the collar end of it attached to a much smaller man's neck who wore black pants, boots and a warm leather jacket. He had short, tousled black hair and had a scowl on his handsome young face.

"Well, this looks interesting," Undertaker mused aloud and said hello to the odd couple in the elevator.

"Riki, it's polite to respond when someone opens a line of verbal communication with you." The man in the white coat suggested to the man under his restraint.

The dark-haired man grunted with irritation. "Damn it, Iason… don't talk to me like I'm child. I'm not in the mood to talk," he growled.

"Oh? And what is all this about?" Undertaker wondered, more amused than anything by Riki's rude reply.

Grell grasped Undertaker's arm possessively. The expression on his face showed he had clearly made his own conclusions to that question. And perhaps realized a fun new game for him and his lover to try out.

"I'm merely taking my pet for a walk." Iason answered smoothly and calmly, eyes hiding behind a pair of flashy blue sunglasses.

As soon as the elevator gave a small chime to let them know they arrived at the ground floor Grell quipped, "Can I be your pet, too?" He batted his eyelashes at the platinum blond suggestively.

K and Hiroshi were both blushing uncomfortably.

Undertaker found the whole thing very funny.

Iason didn't get the chance to answer as Riki forged out of the elevator and headed for the main exit. Clearly, the 'pet' was leading the master.

"How rude…!" Grell fumed.

When the strange pair left, K got his opportunity to interrogate. He wanted answers. "So where do you folks come from? What do you do for a living? What organization hired you? And have you _killed_ anyone recently?"

Hiroshi's eyes widened with alarm. Then he waved an anxious hand at their temporary neighbours. "You really have to excuse him, he's always like this. We… we'll be leaving now." He took K's hand.

"No way, Hiroshi," K replied stubbornly, refusing his partner's hand while his own hand went for his magnum. "I heard heavy machinery coming from their place last night." His eyes shifted between the two sketchily. "Did you destroy the evidence—the witness, your target? Or maybe you're both psychopaths, that's it, eh? Especially _you_ with the facial scar—you're _way_ too happy for it to be normal." He thrust the tip of the gun under Undertaker's chin and muttered."What kind of operation are you running, buddy?"

Undertaker blinked his white-lashed eyes with mild surprise. "My, you're a lively one, that's for sure," he said with mirth. "Do you really believe that little toy of yours will keep you safe?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Grell cried. "You can't just go waving that thing around like that. Besides, if you hurt my man's beautiful face I'll tear you to shreds, literally." He snarled, flashing shark-like teeth at Hiroshi with a hiss.

"K-san…" Hiroshi urged, looking somewhat nervously at the other redhead.

"Not to fret," Undertaker reassured, settling his mesmerizing eyes and his most charming smile on the blond. "Now, there's no need to overreact. Earlier you gave me so much to laugh about that I'll gladly answer your questions. No problem," he said. "If you must know, we're from England. I'm a coroner and my lady here is a… well, he's in the extermination business. We were just on our way out for some cherry pie perhaps… you could direct us to a local bakery in the area."

"Well there is this little place a few blocks away called Café on Sixth," Hiroshi suggested off the top of his head. "Just keep going south towards the tall building with a green light on top."

"Much obliged," replied the silver-haired man. Then he said to K. "The noise you heard last night, if you must know, came from a rather intimate sort of plaything, if you get my drift." Undertaker's smile morphed from charming to diabolical. "It's a touch noisy, you see. Now, you aren't going to shoot me for having some boorish fun last night, hmm? Heaven knows, you _were_ listening, weren't you, funny man? Oh! Perhaps I should call you Tom…"

The look of chagrin appeared on K's face and for a moment, he appeared as if he were a scolded little boy. He had totally been listening, never mind—_spying_—on these two, only a few hours ago. Now this man was clearly calling him out on it. His ears grew hot.

K lowered the gun and shoved it back into its holster. He decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Look honey," Grell intervened. "We're sorry for being a little rambunctious next door—I just can't help myself when my man does that thing with his knuckle and—"

"—you don't have to explain, it really is none of our business!" Hiroshi urged quickly before Grell could finish that statement. He laughed anxiously, _"Right, K-san?"_

K sighed and smiled softly at his sensible partner. "Sure, angel," he relented softly. Feeling a lot more content about the entire situation, he suddenly laughed in that maniac way that only Bad Luck's manager could. "Guess I can't blame you for being 'rambunctious', as you call it. HA! I mean, red heads do it better."

Undertaker flashed a sly glance at his thorny rose. "They sure do."

This time K and Undertaker shared a wicked laugh as if the whole thing with the gun never happened. Hiroshi couldn't believe it. These people were pretty tolerable.

Grell gave a joyful wriggle. "Yes, it's about time someone acknowledged such a fact."

Hiroshi's right eye began to twitch. "I hate to break up the fun but we really should be going," he said. "If we don't leave soon we'll never have time for dinner, K-san."

"You heard it—gotta go feed the wife," K teased all smiles now. He told the foreigners. "Listen, I apologize about before with the… you know." K made a gun shape with his fingers awkwardly and then quickly lowered it. "I guess you two are all right. Try to stay out of trouble tonight."

"I can't make any promises," Undertaker replied mischievously.

"Well, now that we're all friendly and _gay_ again, I insist that you come over for some tea at our place sometime," Grell invited.

"I have cookies or some Kit-Kat, if you prefer," the Undertaker offered genuinely.

Grell cut his man a nasty look at the mention of that horrid candy but Undertaker only shrugged it off playfully. It was much too easy to provoke his mate.

Hiroshi nodded. "Sure, we'll make a date. See you later, guys."

"Later! Handsome neighbours."

* * *

><p><strong>On<strong> a trendy street a few blocks away a quaint little pastry shop, with its front window decorated with white Christmas lights, spray-on snow and dangling snowflakes, was still bustling with customers an hour before closing time. At a glance, a passerby could view a confectionary dreamland filled with baked goodies, crispy creams, mousses, and chocolate.

Oh, yes… the chocolate.

There was a folded sign out front that read:

_Ichigo and Byakuya's Cooking Tip du Jour!_

_'Tis the Season for a Truffle..._

…_or two._

_Welcome!_

Speaking of chocolate, Ichigo Kurosaki's fingers were warmly coated in the stuff as he rolled Christmas truffles. A tray lined with salted caramel _ganache_ rolled into perfect miniature balls was his last task of the day.

"I can't believe it's that time of year again," Ichigo mentioned to the man that owned and ran Café on Sixth, Byakuya Kuchiki. "I feel like I have a case of déjà vu or something."

The pastry chef with his long raven hair tied up in a knot didn't bother to look up from the red velvet cupcakes he was frosting with cream cheese butter cream. His focus was evident with each swirl of his piping tip, creating perfect little rosettes on top of each dainty cake.

Byakuya smirked softly to himself as he leaned over the counter, tending to the cupcakes. "Last year you didn't even know if you wanted to be an accountant or a pastry chef. I'm very pleased you chose the latter. However, the holidays are almost over and then we can finally have a well-deserved rest. Don't fret, my sweet." He urged in his even tenor. "How are your truffles coming along?"

"I'm half way through this batch—then we'll have two hundred more to add to our inventory. I swear these things sell _fast_." Ichigo replied. "And yeah, no kidding… I dunno what I was thinking about the accountant business. I was just being stupid. I can admit that now. What do you mean 'pastry chef'? Oh no, I haven't even earned those stripes yet. I'm still your assistant, Mr. Nasty Chef with a bad attitude." A smirked played across Ichigo's face. He was teasing Byakuya now.

The dark haired pâtissier merely scoffed, "Seems like someone is the pot calling the kettle black."

_"What?"_ Ichigo cried. "Are you saying _I_ have a bad attitude? Did you read that line in a magazine or something? That's a strange aphorism."

Byakuya's eyes shot a glance over his shoulder to sneak a peek at his tall, slim sous chef. "It might be 'strange' but ordinary is fairly boring, do you not agree, Ic-hi-go?"

Ichigo's truffle rolling came to an abrupt halt, which sent a slippery chocolate popping out of his hand. It went splat on the floor. But he didn't care about the dead truffle on the floor. "Oh no… you went _there_—you just called me strawberry, didn't you?"

Cool, calm and collected, Byakuya topped his last cupcake with a lovely swirl and stood back to check his work. "I did," was all he said in his deep baritone voice.

"You know I hate that name," complained Ichigo. "Everyone called me that when I was a kid because I'm a redhead. Actually, it's more orange than red, doesn't look anything like a strawberry so I don't get what's so damn funny."

Oh how Byakuya adored a sulking Ichigo. It was just too easy to rile up his spirited lover. Part of the fun about getting Ichigo in a pissy little mood was finding ways to smooth out his ruffled feathers.

Byakuya sighed at how silent Ichigo became. Why did he always take the bait so easily? Was it also part of his game, did he do it on purpose to get a reaction out of him? The pastry chef had to wonder as he set down his pastry bag and he came silently up behind Ichigo.

He was careful not to step on the squashed truffle on the floor.

With a look of bedevilment gracing his normally stoic facial features, Byakuya slipped his hands underneath Ichigo's chef coat and t-shirt, his body pressed firmly up against his backside. "I thought you didn't mind when I called you by that pet name? To me it is one of endearment. You know I adore the colour of your hair."

Byakuya's tone was mesmerizing and lovely; it made Ichigo weak in the knees. He immediately felt like a heel for acting like a baby. He couldn't stop a shiver that spread over his skin as the _pâtissier's_ warm hands smoothed over his abdomen.

Picking up another _ganache_ ball, Ichigo rolled it in tempered chocolate and set it on a baking sheet lined with parchment. "I know that, Byakuya. I guess I'm still kind of sensitive about it," he told him truthfully.

Feeling kind of devious all of the sudden, Byakuya decided it would be great enjoyment to torture his cute, young assistant. "Perhaps this is all a strategy of yours to have me console you like this. I tolerate you calling me Bya-nana all the time and I don't believe I sulk about it any longer."

This brought a faint smile to Ichigo's face. "But you used to sulk about it and I loved the look on your face when you did." He chuckled softly. "Kind of like an angry kitten with grey eyes."

"Kind of the way you appear right now to me, but with russet eyes," Byakuya pointed out and nosed behind his lover's ear, his hot breath expelling on Ichigo's neck. "Except this kitten is orange and mangy and needs to be… _disciplined_."

At that, Ichigo's groin twitched and stirred with provocation. "What are you suggesting, Boss-sama? We're still working and your sister Rukia is still out front manning the forte. The shop closes in an hour, maybe we should wait until then when your sister leaves and we have the shop all to ourselves."

"Hmm, perhaps, but I thought we were going to that concert to see Hyde-sama, as you call him, your other man-crush?" Byakuya said it using Ichigo's way of speech. "I would hate to make you late and be forced to listen to your wails of distress if I did so."

Ichigo laughed loudly and rolled his truffles faster even while under erotic distress, unsure where this conversation was heading. But if it did end up with him bent over a countertop and Byakuya fucking his brains out, he didn't want to have to finish this task afterwards.

"True… I'd be upset if we missed out on L'Arc en Ciel at the Festival tonight—I still use _Lost Heaven_ as my ringtone. And just so you know, Hyde-sama is _not_ my other man-crush. Hyde is just… he's just—"

"—dreamy," Byakuya finished for him smoothly.

With a soft snort, Ichigo replied, "Something like that." Then he actually giggled. "Man, stop making fun of the things I say."

Mmm, Byakuya loved that little giggle and he adored how flustered Ichigo got every time they spoke of the sexy Japanese singer. It didn't bother him in the slightest that Ichigo admired another man, because he knew Ichigo was all his. He would be lying if he said he didn't get jealous sometimes, because Byakuya is a territorial man after all. But crushes on celebrities were harmless.

This time, Byakuya's hands travelled into the front of Ichigo's pants and into his underwear. Inside he discovered Ichigo's rigid cock, thick and hot with arousal. He pet over the hot flesh with the palm of his hand while he nuzzled his lips against Ichigo's neck, licking at the shell of his ear.

"Byakuya…" The tawny-haired pastry assistant warned. "I'm never going to get these finished and then I'm going to have to temper this chocolate _all_ over again. You know how long that takes. You're driving me crazy."

Oh, Byakuya knew exactly what he was doing. "Do not worry, Ichigo. Let me indulge while you finish the last dozen truffles. It's not that many."

Ichigo sighed heavily, partly from vexation and partly because he was super horny right now.

While keeping an eye out for his sister, Byakuya played. He played and tortured his sous chef with his hands, running them all over Ichigo's lean, athletic body, pressing succulent kisses to the back of his neck and ears. A few times, he squeezed Ichigo's backside, and at one point, even unzipped his black jeans for better access.

By the time Ichigo was finished covering all his truffles with chocolate, Byakuya was stroking his exposed cock. "Seriously, I can't believe you sometimes," he murmured incredulously and grabbed Byakuya's hand.

He led him to the bathroom in the back of the kitchen.

"I almost can't breathe. I'm so freaking turned on right now." The redhead gasped, shutting the door to the small bathroom. Both men grabbed at each other and kissed heatedly, leaving chocolate handprints on each other's chef coats.

The flames burned high, the kisses loud and wet and… hungry.

Ichigo groaned almost painfully against Byakuya's lips, sliding his tongue into his mouth. Byakuya's dexterous hands relieved Ichigo of his pants, which dropped to the floor. And just as deft as his partner was, Ichigo's skilled fingers undid Byakuya's apron and removed it, then he undid his chef coat and lastly, his pants. He did that all while kissing his lovers' sweet, honeyed lips.

When Ichigo pulled away from the kiss, he didn't hesitate to kneel in front of Byakuya. For a brief moment, he admired the man's lithe pale body, gently muscled and toned. Ichigo let his hands glide over Byakuya's sides, along his lean hips and then back around to grab his rear with chocolate stained hands. He gave a small growl of satisfaction as he squeezed Byakuya's tight ass. And when the man began to protest, Ichigo slipped the head of Byakuya's cock between his lips. He began to suck him off with fast, full strokes.

Byakuya's immediately gripped into his hair with fists of orange lust. His eyes glossed over with desire as he watched his swollen length repeatedly leaving and entering Ichigo's mouth. So deep. So warm.

When Byakuya could no longer take it, he told Ichigo to cease his actions. "Please, Ichigo… if you keep going at that rate, I'm going to…"

"… come in my mouth?" Ichigo taunted, looking up at Byakuya from his kneeling position.

"Or on your face..." Byakuya assured breathily. He took that moment to pick up his apron and dig in the pocket. He found what he was looking for—a bottle of lube.

Ichigo gave a deep scoff. "I should have known you were up to no good when you carry that stuff around in your apron."

"But you did not know I was carrying it."

"Clearly I know now since we always end up like this when you do," Ichigo retort.

"And is that a problem?"

"It'll only be a problem if you don't hurry up and fuck me."

Byakuya smirked. "Indeed."

The pastry chef wasted no time lubricating himself and directing the head of his cock to the pert little opening of Ichigo's delightful ass. He pressed in rather roughly and the ginger-haired man bit back a cry. They were not alone in this café and needed to keep things hush-hush.

Still feeling feisty, Byakuya tweaked at Ichigo's nipples as he undulated his hips, sliding his cock swiftly into his lover.

Ichigo knew no matter how hard he tried that he wouldn't be able to contain his orgasm for very long. Byakuya had him so worked up already that he could feel his world about to explode sooner than he would like. He loved it when they fucked in the bathroom. It had been some time since the naughty chef wanted to fool around at work.

The _pâtissier's_ talented hand massaged his length and when Ichigo came, that hand managed to milk him thoroughly.

As Byakuya neared his own climax, he grabbed onto Ichigo's hips and urged him away from the wall. He told him to hold onto the sink, thrusting into him so hard that Ichigo clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

No one could ever say that Byakuya didn't know how to play it rough at times.

Rough he delivered until he shuddered against his tawny-haired lover, filling his body full of hotness. A bead of perspiration trickled along Byakuya's temple. He slipped himself out, catching his breath and waiting for the wobbly-knee feeling to pass before he adjusted his clothing.

"Well… _shit_." Ichigo muttered as he fixed his uniform, wearing a crooked smile.

"Indeed," Byakuya murmured again with a smirk.

When the two horny chefs were finally presentable and opened the door to leave the washroom, Byakuya's sister, Rukia, stood outside of it with her arms crossed over her chest.

She wore a scowl on her cute face. "You two are…sooo… _busted._"

* * *

><p><strong>After<strong> a good tongue lashing from Rukia, Ichigo went out to the front of the café to place his finished truffles into the refrigerated display counter. Most of their customers left except one pair, two men, one with really long silver hair and the other with brown burgundy coloured hair.

Ichigo spied on them through the glass of the display. They were exceptionally attractive men. He chuckled to himself as he overheard their conversation.

"Havi, I know those are really interesting salt and pepper shakers but you can't pilfer them for your weird collection of knickknacks. When we get back to my kingdom I'll have someone craft a pair for you. Alright?"

"You don't get it at all, Val. These little guys are hugging—look—_hugging_! It's freaking adorable."

The one called Val sighed and ran his fingers through his hair with exasperation. "Why are all you wizards so eccentric? Just forget about it, I won't have anything to do with your theft. Can't you just use a spell and make a replica?"

"Fine then if you're going to be such a party pooper about it, I won't do it. Geesh, you remind me of that stupid magic bunny of yours that wants to get into your pants so badly."

"He does not!"

"Does so…!"

Ichigo was too busy snickering that he didn't hear Byakuya speaking to him.

"Ichigo…?" Byakuya questioned, "What are you doing?"

Startled, Ichigo whacked his head off the top part of the counter, which caused Havi and Val to glance over curiously. "Oh, nothing, I was just err… checking to see if this light bulb was working." He said feebly, tapping the bulb.

Byakuya quirked a fine eyebrow, "Clearly it is operational." With a small sigh he added, "Rukia is leaving early. She says it's our punishment for…" A faint blush warmed the crest of the baker's cheeks. "…for what we did earlier. She says we can close shop ourselves. Ichigo, I'm mortified."

At that, Ichigo chuckled and patted his adorable partner on the shoulder. "Don't worry too much about it, Byakuya. It isn't anything she doesn't know about. You're just going to have to learn to control your animal urges, that's all. Keep the little Byakuya in his pants until we get home."

Byakuya sniffed, indignant. "Now you're just taking advantage of my unmasking."

"Yeah right, you rarely show me this vulnerable side. I think it's cute. Besides, what we did earlier was freakin' hot. Teehee… you're blushing." Indeed, Ichigo had the impeccable Byakuya wrapped around his little pinkie unlike anyone else ever could. "Anyways, we'll still have plenty of time to hit the concert, so don't sweat it."

Just then, the door to the café jingled and another exceptionally attractive foreign couple wandered into the shop. It was a tall man with flowing hair the colour of moonlight who had a beautiful redhead with equally long hair clinging to his arm. Ichigo was blown away when he realized the redhead was a man dressed attractively in women's clothes. He wore a stunning long red coat with white fur on the collar and down the front. His smile, however, was fiendish.

Snow must have started falling outside since the taller man took off his knitted hat and shook the flakes from it. "Blimey, it's snowing out there. Just a lil' mind you but if it keeps up it could make getting around messy." He proclaimed.

"It's _so_ pretty outside," the redhead cooed. "Kind of makes me think of Christmas Town."

Ichigo realized the two people were speaking in English. He smiled at the two men. "Good evening, gentlemen. My English is a bit awkward, so be patient with me and we'll get along fine."

"Sounds good, chap. The missus and I were hoping you might have some cherry pie in your lovely little bakery." He asked and proceeded to dust a few snowflakes from the redhead's hair.

"Byakuya, we still have cherry pie left, don't we?" Ichigo asked the chef who was studying the customers carefully.

"Yes, would you like me to warm some up?" the chef asked the customers in fairly decent English. "I have one pie on a rack in the kitchen."

"If you could be so kind," spoke the dainty male with red-framed glasses. "I like my pie hot just the way I like my men. And looking at you two fine morsels, I'd say Japan is _full_ of hotties."

Stupefied, Byakuya simply blinked for a moment before he disappeared into the back to fill the order. Ichigo laughed softly at the compliment. "Will you be having it here or would you like to take it with you," asked Ichigo as he rang up the order on the register. "Would you like some tea or coffee with that?"

"Tea…!" The two customers said at the same time and then chuckled.

"Oh Under-darling, we have to stop doing that."

"Well, we can't have pie without some tea. It just isn't right." Under-darling said and peaked into the pastry display. "My, look at all the goodies in there, Grell dear. I gotta have me some of those to go."

"Maybe we should bring some home to share with our hot-headed neighbours. So you don't have to end up giving them Kit-Kat." The redhead said with distain.

"What's so terrible about Kit-Kat? It's crunchy, it melts in your mouth and it's delicious. You're just miffed at me cause I made a mess with the wrappers." The other said while he dug in his coat pocket for his wallet. "And I really don't think the one called Hiroshi was much of a hothead. It was that bleedin' husband of his, K… was that his name?" He kindly showed Ichigo which other pastries he'd like to try.

"Who decides a one letter name is a good idea?" Grell said with a sniff, checking out the other two customers in the shop with interest. "His mother probably dropped him on his head a few times."

The taller man laughed loudly. "Perhaps, but I thought he was quite amusing. He seems like the playful sort, it is refreshing. Don't deny me a good laugh, my dear."

"Blazes! You laugh all the time, Undie. Don't be ridiculous."

Ichigo put the other confections into a small paper bag and then he filled two cups with tea. "You can both have a seat and I'll bring everything over when it's ready."

"Many thanks, kind sir," the man with silver hair in the black coat said pleasantly.

Even though this customer had a large visible scar across his face, Ichigo found himself mesmerized by his eyes, such beautiful eyes… With a closer look, he noticed both men had similar coloured eyes. How strange is that?

* * *

><p><strong>The<strong> mega marketing hog known as Christmas was quickly becoming big business in Japan. In the heart of downtown Tokyo, the famous scramble-crossing intersection leading to Shibuya's Hachikō Railway Station was closed off due to the Cavalcade of Lights Christmas Festival. Already the area was full of people watching some of Japan's hottest musical acts who were playing there tonight. Later on, to end the night with a bang, there would be a grand show of fireworks.

And of course, the lighting of a giant Christmas tree.

People were bundled in his or her winter hats and scarves, mittens and puffy coats. The air was unusually cold and as the line from the song _Let it Snow_ claims, 'the weather outside is frightful'. In fact, snow began to transform the place into a winter wonderland. But that didn't dampen the spirits of the festivities, it only made it better.

The people of Tokyo definitely knew how to party.

Bad Luck's manager was sure glad the stage had a covering in case of rain, which was entirely possible in December but snow wasn't something they normally had to worry about this time of year. The boyish side of him admired the snow that fell. The flakes were big and fluffy and came down in a cluster. Similar to how a group of people jumped out of a plane together, holding each other's hand. It made him think of the good old times.

"There you are!" bellowed a familiar voice. It was Bad Luck's producer.

K flicked his half-finished cigarette away and closed the side door behind him. He went back inside of the backstage area where all the musical groups were getting ready. "Have I missed something, Sakano-san?"

"Only that Bad Luck goes on stage in fifteen minutes. Nittle Grasper is playing the last song on their list. We have to round up the guys," the producer claimed anxiously. "But they are _ignoring_ me."

K met up with the shorter dark-haired man in his ever-present suit and tie, clapping him soundly on the shoulder with a hand. "How about I break out the bullhorn? I have a tank parked not so far from here." He said dangerously.

Sakano nearly paled. "None of your antics tonight, K-san," he warned. "NG has big money riding on this show tonight. Just look at the turnout. There must be over two thousand people out there tonight. No screw-ups." He adjusted his glasses like a nervous tic. "It could be our jobs on the line."

The tall blond waved off the warning half-heartedly. "When will you learn to take a joke, little man? Come on, let's go find the boys."

When they found them, Shuichi, Suguru and Hiroshi were all chatting with the members from L'Arc en Ciel. Both groups decked out like the rock stars that they are. Bad Luck appeared very pop and funk, while L'Arc en Ciel was more vampy and new age tonight.

That certainly didn't stop them from discussing tonight's gig with each other though.

K admired everyone but he especially admired his Hirokins the most, dressed in those black leather pants and blue shirt from earlier. He loved seeing his man looking stylish for the stage. The humble musician went from being this low-key guy in jeans and sneakers to a sexy thing that made his fans scream. He discretely patted Hiro's bottom as he approached from behind.

"Oh, hi there, K-san. I was just talking to Hyde-sama. Look what he gave me." Hiroshi held out a black tube with intricate markings of gold and pink on it. "It's Rose Vaseline—lip balm."

"Nice. You should put it on," K suggested dashingly. "So I can give you a kiss before the show and taste it."

Hiroshi's cheeks lit up with a blush that was a soft shade of pink when K spoke like that around other people. "You're incorrigible. I can't do that stuff here. You know… in front of them." The guitarist vaguely waved and hand in the direction of the other band.

Hyde chuckled charmingly to himself before he wandered off. He heard everything.

K watched the snickering rock star who was dressed in an impressive long lacy, cream-coloured gown with flowing sleeves, which made him look like a priestess or a sacrificial virgin. The man's dark hair was styled straight for tonight's show with a crown of thorns on top of his head.

"I know you won't give me kisses at a gig, Hiro." K said with his blue eyes brimming with mischief. "You're such a respectable guy—that's what I love about you."

Hiroshi grinned coyly. "But you always calm me down before a gig—that's what I love about _you_."

"Oh man, will you two get a room." Suguru, the talented keyboardist for Bad Luck, complained. "Doesn't the love wear off after all these years?"

Bad Luck's pink-haired lead singer piped up. "Don't be jealous, Fujisaki-san," Shuichi stated. "One day you'll find love and then you'll understand."

With a sycophantic expression, Suguru inquired. "And how is Yuki-san?"

K shot the small green-haired kid an alarmed look. It was a well-known fact that speaking about Yuki-san at a gig was off-limits.

Everyone held their breaths.

Shuichi wasn't quick with his reply. He seemed to be thinking about his answer with a poker face. When he finally spoke he said, "Oh, Yuki's at home packing his bags…"

K was thinking of ways to murder Suguru Fujisaki for opening up this can of worms at such an important event. His fingers were already on his gun. It was almost out of the holster.

"He's packing mine, too." Shuichi added as a crazy grin spread across his face. "Tomorrow morning we're headed to Hawa-i-i! That's right Shindou is headed to the beach—gonna soak up the sun and have romantic dinners and make love in the sand and take…"

The pink-haired singer just kept rambling on about all the wonderful things he was going to do in Hawaii with Yuki. Suguru, Hiroshi, Sakano and K all let out a heavy sigh.

By now, K had reached the limit of his patience and he ordered, "Get your asses on stage already!"

The crowd outside was cheering for more since the last band finished at least ten minutes ago. Nittle Grasper, Bad Luck's ultimate rival band, always put on a helluva show and were now backstage cooling off and chatting with fans and stage crew.

Ryuichi waved at Shuichi and wished them good luck.

On stage, Hiroshi gave his best friend Shuichi the thumbs up signal and when the pink fuzz returned it, he gave one to Suguru, too. When all three Bad Luck members signalled each other, they knew they were ready to bring their stage to life.

They started loud and fast much to the fans' anticipation. The first song on the list was _Spicy Marmalade_.

It was the first time in a long time they played while it snowed but they could barely feel the cold, even though their breath was visible with every puff of breath. The city square was teeming with people and Hiroshi loved every living minute of it.

The show went on.

They played a few songs, even a crafty Christmas number that Sakano insisted would please the crowd. Shuichi managed to change _I Saw _Daddy_ Kissing Santa Claus_ into something provocative and the fans swooned. During the song, Hiroshi was messing around with Shuichi on stage, pretending to kiss him as if he was the Santa Claus in question. But at one point, he nearly tripped on a wire and the Rose Vaseline fell out of his pants pocket.

Before their next song started, Hiroshi retrieved it and with a shrug tossed it into the crowd.

* * *

><p><strong>Out<strong> of nowhere, something bounced off Grell's snow-dusted head. He reached up with fast reaper reflexes and caught the thing. It was a black tube of rose-scented lip-gloss.

"Oh my stars!" He clamoured, "I just caught something the band threw to the fans, darling. Eeee! That never happens to me." Grell spotted a fellow festivalgoer eyeing the prize in his hand enviously and he said with great plight, "Not on your life sweetheart. This is _mine_."

"What is it?" Undertaker wondered, eyeing the little bottle his partner was holding.

Grell was already busy inspecting it, twisting off the cap. "It smells like roses," he admired. "It's for your lips but…" And he giggled with naughty intent. "I wonder if it could be used as lube."

"It's such a tiny bottle," Undertaker replied. Seriously, there wasn't anything Grell couldn't connect to sexual activity. "You wouldn't want to waste it on that when we have plenty of substances to use at our disposal."

"I know, I know. I was just inquiring." Grell waved a hand at him.

"You know the guitar player that threw that thing looks a lot like Hiroshi. I know we're not that close and it's hard to see clearly, but he's got the same hair colour and the same clothing." Undertaker pointed out.

Grell directed his eyes at the stage again and squinted a little. "Hmm, same cute build—same leather pants that do wonders for that man's backside. Are you telling me our neighbour is a famous rock star? Oh, this is fun," he mused delightfully.

After all these years, Undertaker understood how Grell's mind worked. No matter how much the red reaper flirted or praised other people's attractive qualities, Undertaker knew that his heart belonged to him. That is just the way Grell was.

Undertaker laughed at his mate's deciphering. "You should be working for the Scotland Yard, my dear. With skills like yours you could remember suspects based on their arses."

Grell simply grunted. "Tch! And I'm standing next to the biggest arse of them all."

Undertaker cackled with wicked glee and Grell swatted his arm with a hand that jangled with a bright neon bracelet.

* * *

><p><strong>By<strong> the time Byakuya and Ichigo got to the Cavalcade of Lights Christmas Festival, it was jam-packed.

"Aw, this sucks. We're so far away that I'll never get a good look at L'Arc en Ciel," Ichigo said with disappointment, hunkering under the fuzzy-lined hood of his dark winter coat.

Byakuya blinked off a snowflake that landed on one of his eyelashes. "At least you get to see them perform." He replied calmly. "Still, I don't understand the appeal of these outdoor festivals with horrendous crowds and all this noise."

Ichigo sighed. "It's about being part of something, Byakuya. It's fun. I know it is not your kind of scene so thanks for coming with me. It wouldn't be the same without you."

No, this was definitely not Byakuya's kind of scene. "I do like the snow, however."

That put a pleasant smile on Ichigo's face. "Well, at least you're trying to enjoy yourself." That was a whole lot more then he could ask for. "I didn't mind the last band that was playing. I rarely listen to their music but you hear their stuff all the time on the radio." Ichigo said.

"_Bad Luck_," Byakuya said, recalling the name of the band that just finished playing. "I believe that guitarist of theirs stops by the café once in a while."

"No shit, really?"

"Yes," Byakuya answered impassively. "Rukia mentioned something to me once or twice about him. She was quite thrilled by the entire thing I gathered."

Ichigo chuckled. "I guess she knows their music then."

"Quite."

When the last band of the evening came on, Ichigo made a fist pump. "Finally," he muttered. "The band I've been waiting for."

L'Arc en Ciel began to play and then the square full of people got tremendously noisy, much to Byakuya's dismay. The music itself was fairly good, he could admit that much. However, he enjoyed studying Ichigo and the sweet boyish charm on his face as he watched his idol create music. The baker was skilled at blocking out the rest of the world and allowing himself to focus on one thing.

That thing was Ichigo. It would always be.

As the show continued and the crowd surrounding them jumped and danced, Byakuya closed his eyes peacefully. He simply listened to the music. The singer—Hyde, that he knew so well because of Ichigo—had a lovely voice. It was very rich, deep and Byakuya decided he rather liked it.

At one point, Byakuya heard that singer speaking to the crowd. He was going on bracelets and the number 333 when suddenly Ichigo was grasping his arm. Byakuya eyes flashed open.

"What is it, Ichigo," he droned with displeasure. He didn't like being yanked from of his peaceful state.

"Your bracelet is flashing! You're wearing the bracelet with the number 333 on it." The younger man exclaimed. "Holy crap!" He forcibly held up Byakuya's arm and began waving it around as if he was a large rag doll. "He's the winner," Ichigo hollered excitedly.

Very disturbed with the rough and inappropriate handling, Byakuya scowled at first. However, he quickly realized that indeed his bracelet _was_ flashing. "What does this mean?" He questioned with uncertainty.

From the stage, the vocalist of L'Arc en Ciel claimed that he would be seeing Byakuya and his guest later after the show.

Ichigo was nearly busting at this point. He said with amusement to his partner, "You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

Byakuya took a patient breath. "That is what I have already inquired of you, Ichigo."

"You just won a backstage pass, _that's_ what it means. And I get to come with you to meet Hyde and the band." Ichigo answered like a man that just won the lottery. "This is the _best_ day of my life!"

Ah, now it all made sense. "I see. So we get to meet this musician and his band." The side of Byakuya's mouth twitched with a small smile. "I'm glad this makes you so cheerful. It would seem as if you got more than you wished for this evening."

"All thanks to you," Ichigo claimed incredulously and wrapped his arms around the _pâtissier_ suddenly. "Now it's my duty to protect you from the vultures that want that bracelet you're wearing. Come on. Let's make our way backstage so we don't get mobbed. But first," he murmured passionately, "I'm going to kiss you."

Before Byakuya could protest, Ichigo pressed his warm lips to his. They kissed in the middle of the large crowd as snow came down all around them and Byakuya's blinking neon bracelet flashed like the pounding of his heart.

When Ichigo pulled away he murmured, "You are one lucky guy, you know that?"

"Tsk." The baker sounded. "I feel I truly got lucky the day that you agreed to be mine, Ichigo. I believe _you_ bring me good fortune."

"Then we're just a lucky pair of bastards." Ichigo laughed.

Byakuya frowned softly. "Not the most eloquent way to put it, but, yes." He told him sweetly, "I love you. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't, Byakuya. I love you, too. Let's get out of here." Ichigo then made a rare sound of excitement. "Oh man… I'm _sooo_ nervous to meet Hyde. What if I say something dumb? Should I hold your hand or do you think he'll think I'm an idiot?"

Giving Ichigo's hand a squeeze, Byakuya reassured him. "Don't over think these things. It will be fine."

Weaving through the crowd and actually finding the correct place to go, Ichigo and Byakuya finally found the backstage area. After they showed the teeming horde of security the flashing bracelet, they allowed them to enter.

Byakuya was not impressed with the procedure that consisted of being pat down and checked for weapons, drugs or other such effects on his person. Ichigo would have chuckled about it, but his stomach was all in knots.

"Relax, Ichigo." Byakuya whispered, sensing his partner's unease. "He's just a person like you and I. Were you even this nervous on our first date?"

"You have no idea…" Ichigo answered with a sigh. "Remember the first time I met you? I could barely speak."

A delighted chuckle left the raven-haired baker. "Ah yes, when you applied for a job only because you wanted to ask me out."

"Excuse me..." A man with a smooth voice behind them said. "Are you the ones with the winning bracelet?"

The two bakers turned around and there, before Ichigo's eyes… was Hyde from L'Arc en Ciel.

Suddenly Ichigo's tongue felt three times bigger in size. "Yesh," he answered and cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes. Actually m-my boyfriend was the one with the winning bracelet—oh my god…I'm a huge fan of yours." He babbled. "I know you probably hear that all the time but this moment means a lot to me."

Byakuya glanced uncertainly at his lover.

Hyde was still wearing his gown with long sleeves, minus the crown of thorns. "Thank you," he said with a soft smile. Then he delicately placed his hands on Ichigo's shoulders and pressed two feathered kisses on each of his cheeks. He did the same to Byakuya who stood there expressionless as if he had just gotten a kiss from his grandfather.

The musician gave a diminutive giggle. Ichigo's face was beet red.

"Wow, you're very pretty," Ichigo blurted out. "Crap, did I just say that out loud?"

Byakuya sighed. "You must excuse him he is socially inept and overwhelmed by his meeting of you."

"That's alright, it happens a lot. I think you're both pretty, too. Why don't you come meet the rest of the band? Ok?" Hyde invited and turned, making a graceful come-hither motion with his hand as he walked away.

Byakuya droned, "Pull yourself together, Ichigo. You've faced greater obstacles than this. This is not the Ichigo I know."

"You're right," Ichigo answered and fisted his hands with determination. "I can do this." He took a deep breath. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>The<strong> highlight of the evening was watching the fireworks and seeing the lights come aglow on the giant Christmas tree near the stage. It was even more magical with the snow falling.

Hiroshi stood on the stage with all the other people from backstage to view it. He cheered along with everyone else when it was all over.

"You were correct, this was worth viewing. You have my thanks."

"What are you talking about, K-san? You don't have to thank me." Hiroshi said as he turned around and spotted a handsome raven-haired man behind him instead of Claude. With a quick, confused glance around, he didn't see K anywhere.

"I'm sorry but are you speaking to me?" Questioned the dark stranger in an trendy winter black leather biker jacket who was holding the hand of a tawny-haired guy. It appeared to be his boyfriend.

"Oh." Hiroshi chuckled with mild embarrassment. "You sound a lot like my husband—I could have sworn he was the one speaking to me. My apologies," he said.

"There is no harm done," the man assured his tone cool and his voice deep.

Hiroshi had to smile. If he closed his eyes and listened to this man talk, he could totally imagine it being K.

"Hey, you're that guitarist from the band that played before L'Arc en Ciel." The guy with orange hair exclaimed. "You guys were great."

"Thanks," Hiroshi replied. "I thought I was going to freeze my ass off but with all that jumping around, I'm only now beginning to cool off. By the way, my name is Hiroshi Nakano." He gave a polite bow.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," the other offered. "And this is my partner, Byakuya Kuchiki." Ichigo actually held out his hand for a handshake. Byakuya simply nodded in response.

Hiroshi shook Ichigo's hand. "Oh, I've heard of you guys. You own that little café that makes all those amazing pastries. My husband loves your stuff. He loves cooking but he's not so good when it comes to baking things."

"You're married?" Byakuya commented. Only he could keep the surprise out of his question.

Hiroshi gave a cute chuckle. "Yeah… I have been for a few years now. How about you guys?"

"We've been engaged for a year, almost a year this New Year's Eve," Ichigo shared, his cheeks colouring a little bit. He could be so bashful.

"Then I guess congratulations are in order."

The three men looked over at a tall blond with a long ponytail who had just spoken. He had a cigarette dangling from his lip as he zipped up his coat that quickly concealed a firearm nestled against his ribcage. Afterwards, he put his arm around Hiroshi possessively.

"K-san, there you are. I didn't even know you took off somewhere. Where did you go?" Hiroshi plucked the cigarette from K's mouth and took a drag off it.

"Just went to get my coat because we're leaving soon. Look at the snow, it's starting to come down harder and the roads are a mess. We have a Christmas party to attend. The limo is waiting for us."

Suddenly Hiroshi had a fabulous idea. He gestured a hand at his new acquaintances. "This is Ichigo and Byakuya from Café on Sixth."

K blinked for a moment and studied the two other men carefully. "No shit!" he clamoured. "I saw you guys on television. Did you win the backstage pass this evening?"

Ichigo nodded. "Actually, Byakuya here won it. I was just his lucky guest. I got to meet L'Arc en Ciel." His eyes glazed over, he was quickly returning to his Hyde-esque cloud nine.

"His other man-crush," Byakuya offered facetiously.

"Oy! Stop that," Ichigo chided, which only made Byakuya look smug. "It's a once in a lifetime thing. Let me revel, ok?"

K laughed loudly. "Don't worry, Byakuya. I have to deal with thousands of concupiscent fans swooning over Hiroshi nearly every day like piece of juicy steak. In the end I know that I'm the one he's waking up next to in the morning."

"Only if you stop spying on the neighbours," Hiroshi warned with impertinence.

K waved his hand goofily. "I dunno what he's talking about. What a joker…"

Byakuya actually smirked and scoffed.

"Anyways," Hiroshi changed the topic, "Would you guys like to come to the Christmas party with us? We have a big limo—it'll be fun."

The _patisser's_ eyebrows rose slightly. "I can't—"

Ichigo groaned just then, obviously, he thought Byakuya was going to decline.

"—see why not." Byakuya finished. He cast Ichigo an irksome look. "It would be foolishness to try and drive my motorcycle home in this weather. I didn't know it was going to keep up."

Ichigo gave a nervous chuckle and squeezed his lover's hand apologetically.

"You ride a motorcycle?" Hiroshi commented keenly. "Cool, so do I. What's the make?"

K made a chopping motion between the baker and the guitarist with his hand. "You two can gear talk on the way to the car. Now let's move it," he suggested.

Everyone complied and began to make their way to the parking area.

When it was safe to continue their discussion Byakuya eagerly shared, "It's a 1973 Z1 Kawasaki, vintage model."

Hiroshi nearly began to salivate. "That's a beautiful bike. I hear you can get up to 130 k-m's with those."

Ichigo shrugged as his man fell behind talking to Hiroshi about motorcycles. He turned to the tall blond that strode next to him and said, "You know you _do_ sound a lot like Byakuya. It's really uncanny."

"Trust me they broke the mold when they made me." K thumbed into his own chest and laughed.

"Who's 'they'…" Ichigo murmured.

* * *

><p><strong>Bad<strong> Luck was introduced to the newcomers that were joining them for the party tonight. Shuichi, Suguru and Sakano welcomed Ichigo and Byakuya warmly.

The elegant black limo they were in was moving at a snail's pace as the congestion from the concert dispersed. However, no one minded as everyone talked about the Festival and how Byakuya was the one wearing the lucky number 333 bracelet.

"I don't even think he knew what it was for," Ichigo told them with amusement. "Say, do you think Hyde will be at this party we're all going to?"

"He's got another engagement this evening," Sakano explained to the orange-haired man, who he learned was Byakuya's baking apprentice and fiancée.

"That's a bummer," Ichigo replied.

"But you have us tonight," Shuichi boasted. "And Ryuichi Sakuma will be there as well. You must know him, right?"

"From Nittle Grasper…?" Ichigo looked at the pink-haired singer. "Wow… _get out!_ He's going to be there, too?"

Byakuya sighed and shook his head. "It appears you'll have your hands full tonight, Ichigo."

"_Ichigo_, huh? Does your name stand for strawberry?" asked Suguru Fujisaki. "It's really cute."

Ichigo scowled and ranted. "It's stands for 'protect' in kanji. Geesh!"

"It isn't as cute as strawberry." Byakuya agreed calmly.

"Don't encourage them, Byakuya!" wailed Ichigo as everybody giggled.

K was busy smearing the condensation on the window with his hand, trying to get a good look outside to see if the bumper-to-bumper issue was easing up. While he was at it, he drew a happy face… or two. Through the left eye of his artwork, he saw two people he recognized immediately and ordered the car to stop.

He rolled down the window and hailed at them. "Yo! Mr. Undie-san. Ms. Grell-san!"

A moment later, two familiar faces appeared outside the opened window as they leaned in to peek inside the car.

"Well jingle yer bells! It's our funny neighbours _and_ the cool blokes from the bakery," Undertaker mused with interest. "What'cha all doing in this big fancy car?"

"We're headed to a Christmas party," Hiroshi told them. "Get in. You'll catch your death out there."

"My death…" Undertaker twittered. "My, you don't say."

The driver stopped the car and got out in haste.

"Oh! Yay!" Grell squealed from the other side of the window. His cheeks were fresh and pink from the wintery weather. "Are you inviting us to your after-party? I didn't know you were part of a flourishing rock band, Hiroshi. Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Hiroshi shrugged. "Sorry, my manager always gets upset if I tell strangers who I am. It's his fault." He pointed at K.

Grell and Undertaker gave the trigger-happy manager a perceptive glance. They nodded with acknowledgement.

"Hold on fine gentlemen and I'll get that door for you," said the driver who was coming around the bumper of the car.

"Hey, thanks Grimmjow," K called out to the chauffer. "You're the man."

"Grimmjow…?" Ichigo murmured uneasily under his breath.

Byakuya paled.

Everyone shifted a little bit to make room, which wasn't difficult in such a huge automobile. Undertaker and Grell took off their snow-covered hat and earmuffs and set them on their laps. They glanced about at all the faces in the car.

The people in the car all stared at the dapper looking newcomers.

"Sorry if I got a little snow on you there," Undertaker said to orange-haired baker who was brushing it off his jeans.

"That's alright," Ichigo replied in stiff English. "Say, how was the pie?"

"Oh honey, the pie was to die for," Grell gushed holding a hand to his chest and moaning with pleasure. "You two are like sugar and spice and _everything_ nice."

Byakuya seemed pleased.

Once the driver got back into the car, it moved ahead a bit and stopped again.

"You have my gratitude, sir, for opening that door for us. All that really wasn't necessary," Undertaker told the limo driver.

The opaque window dividing the driver from the people in the back of the car, lowered. There behind the wheel was a man with sky-blue hair wearing a black chauffeur cap and a smile suitable for most devils.

"Well, well… look who it is. Hello there, sweet thing, seems like fate has brought us together tonight." Grimmjow said with a salacious grin. "And if he isn't with the hostile carrot-top. How you doing?"

The din in the car came to sudden halt. All eyes were on the driver.

"Is he talking to you, Byakuya?" Hiroshi wondered with disbelief.

"Yes," Byakuya answered evenly. "I implore that you shut that divider immediately." He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here, you horn dog?" Ichigo frowned, craning his head to look back at the fanatical deliveryman that brought supplies to the bakery.

"I'm moonlighting, making some extra cash driving limousines. And it seems were moving pretty slowly… so, I thought we could all keep each other company. What are the names of all you handsome people since Byakuya is ignoring me? And don't leave yourself out, mister-with-the-mysterious-scar. I have this weird feeling as though we have a special connection."

K's trigger finger was starting to get itchy. "Maybe you should just continue driving the car, buddy."

"But where is the fun in that? This is a big car and you're all in festive moods. Perhaps I can park this limo and we could all spread some holiday cheer." Grimmjow was tinkling himself pink.

Undertaker began to cackle with laughter. "Boy, this is rich!" he howled.

Bad Luck was speechless.

K pulled the magnum from its holster and clicked the hammer back.

Grell, on the other hand, grimaced distastefully. "As much as I enjoy spreading many things even _I_ think that was downright vulgar, if you ask me." The crimson redhead laughed naughtily and smoothed a gloved hand along his companion's arm. "Under-darling, go have a chat with that libertine." He batted his false eyelashes at his beautiful ex-reaper.

Undertaker snickered. "It'd be my pleasure, love." He told everyone else in a singsong voice, "Be back in a jiffy!"

The silver-haired man wore a shifty grin and hummed a gleeful tune as he climbed out of the car. It was moving so slowly that he had no trouble reaching the front passenger door.

Everyone watched with surprise as the Undertaker got in next to Grimmjow.

"You came for a whirl on my disco stick, didn't you?" the lewd driver asked as the silver reaper who shifted closer to him and drew fingernail down the side of Grimmjow's cheek. It was quiet seductive looking to the people in the back.

Undertaker leaned in to whisper into Grimmjow's ear. Only Grimmjow could see how his eyes were nearly glowing.

"I'd deal with that guy myself." Grell said casually to everyone. "But my darling is more persuasive than I am. I tend lose my temper in the heat of the moment. And that guy really has it coming."

They had no idea how violent this ladylike reaper could be.

Byakuya was most curious as to what that silver-haired man was saying to Grimmjow. Whatever it was, it didn't take very long. And by the time he returned to the back portion of the car with them, Grimmjow closed the divider window without a peep.

"That was amazing!" Ichigo clamoured. "What did you say to him?"

Undertaker got comfortable again in his seat and shrugged. "Not a whole lot, mind. I gave him the chilly willy's when I touched his hand and then I showed him a special toy of mine and told him a cinematic tale that ending rather gravely. He didn't fancy it very much."

It really made no sense to anyone but Grell. He laughed serenely. "My creepy silver fox, you were marvellous," he praised.

Undertaker seemed to find that sentiment quite pleasing, much to everybody's amusement and utter confusion.

"All the more reason to celebrate now," Shuichi flourished a green bottle before himself. "Let's open the champagne!"

Hiroshi groaned. "You'll be drunk before we even get to the party, Shu-chan."

"Not if we split it with everyone here. Wow, Hiro have some faith in me." The singer complained and looked around at everybody. "Does everyone here like champagne? Are you ready to party? Shindou is ready!"

"I think he's already been drinking while we weren't paying attention," Suguru said.

"I heard that!" Shuichi cried as he poured champagne into flutes for everyone.

K whispered covertly into Hiro's ear. "My spidey senses are tingling again. I know there's something strange about Those-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

Hiroshi glanced swiftly at their neighbours and looked away before they noticed. "Forget about it, K-san," he replied for only him to hear. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. They're really fun people and they seem harmless. Chill out and have a drink."

K sighed and thanked Shuichi for the glass of champagne. "You're right… _fine_. I'll behave myself. I'll let it go." He looked at Grell who was flashed him a shark-toothed smile accompanied by a devious chuckle. He smiled in return while his right eye twitched.

Byakuya and Ichigo held out their glasses for a toast and everyone _clinked_ their glasses together.

"Kampai!" They all cheered.

**FIN**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed. Merry Christmas! This silly fic was fun to write for many secret little fangirl reasons. I'll share a few fun facts in case you didn't know. **

_**- Byakuya Kuchiki and K are performed by the same voice actor. Ryotaro Okiayu :)**_

_**- Grimmjow Jeagerjaques and Undertaker are performed by the same voice actor. Junichi Suwabe :) **_

_**- Rose Vaseline is a product from Hyde's line of products hehe!**_

_**- I have a serious thing for redheads and long haired bishies XD! Ichigo(Exception on the hair). Grell. Hiroshi 333**_

_**- Adding Hyde to a fic tickles me pink lol!**_

_**- A radio ad inspired this story.**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_


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